


You Are

by naasad



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Body Image, Bruce is a good dad, Gen, Guys Deserve to Feel Pretty Too, Hair Dye, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Makeover, Self-Esteem Issues, father-son bonding, working out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 14:13:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: "I hate myself. Every time I see my hair, I see my death; every time I see my eyes, I see my resurrection; and every time I see my nails, I see that stupid, bloody coffin. And I'll never measure up to you guys."If someone goes from 0 to 60, you've failed to realize how long they've been at 59.





	You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Idk why, but Jason's been on my mind a lot. Here's him struggling with his appearance and Bruce **not** being a shitty parent. Lmk what you think!

Jason glanced out the corner of his eye as Tim fidgeted in his seat. He quickly squashed down the pang of jealousy at his brother’s skinny frame. Everyone knew that wasn’t healthy.

The elevator doors opened with a clang and out came Damian, followed closely by the Golden Child himself. They were arguing about something, but he stopped paying attention the moment Damian tore off his shirt and demanded they settle the matter with a spar.

And, wow, that was low of him, being jealous of a thirteen-year-old. Damian probably wouldn’t even know what fat distribution was for another ten years or so.

Dick smirked like he was going to humor the brat, and Jay looked away. He already knew what that would look like. Most, if not all, of his older brother’s muscle was for show. He was still strong and capable, but his strength was in staying light and airborne and his passion was for… well, for passion.

“Sorry,” Bruce said, walking over with fresh bandages. “You know Alfred’s rule about bleeding out on the floors.”

Jason stood and walked away, unable to bear it anymore.

His father perfectly walked the line between functional and looking like it was for show. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t be that.

Maybe if he was Bruce’s for real…. He wouldn’t be himself, then.

He took a deep breath as he entered the more private sitting room and tried to slip into meditation techniques. When that failed, he sent his fist through the mirror above the fireplace.

“Jaylad?” Bruce closed the door behind him, thankfully wearing a shirt now.

Jason shook his head, pacing. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

Jason closed his eyes (green, green, green, drowning, choking, green) and tugged on his white forelock with all the strength he could muster, hoping just a few of the strands would tear themselves out. They never did.

Bruce pulled him gently to the nearest chair and grabbed the first aid kit, bandaging Jason’s knuckles. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Jason took a deep, shaky breath that quickly turned into a sob. “I hate myself.” He tipped forward, crying into his father’s shoulder.

Bruce wrapped his arms around him and held him close. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

“Since I came back.” Jason pushed away, sniffling, pawing at the wetness on his face. “Every time I see my hair, I see my death; every time I see my eyes, I see my resurrection; and every time I see my nails, I see that stupid, bloody coffin. And I’ll never-ʺ he swallowed thickly, struggling to breathe for a moment. “I’ll never measure up to you guys.”

“Oh,” Bruce said. He frowned in thought, then stood. “Come on.”

“Come where?” Jason asked, trying to gain a hold on himself.

“I’m going to take you to see my stylist,” Bruce said, “then my personal trainer.”

Jason snorted and wiped furiously at his face. “You have a personal trainer?”

Bruce handed him a tissue. “For appearance’s sake.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “Jason. Thank you for talking to me.”

Jason sniffed once and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Let’s go?”

“Let’s go.”

* * *

 

Jason frowned as they entered the stylist’s tiny shop.

“Keshawn!” Bruce cried happily, in full Brucie Wayne mode.

Keshawn looked up from his current customer and beamed. “Hey! I’ll be right with you, Mister Wayne!”

As Bruce perused the magazine selection, Jason glanced at the samples of dye on the wall.

“See one you like?” Bruce asked, gesturing to his bangs.

Jason blinked in shock, then hesitantly pointed to a deep plum, almost black, but not quite.

Bruce grinned and pulled him over to the shelves of nail polish. “Is Stacy here today?”

Keshawn called out in the affirmative.

Bruce gestured impatiently, excitedly.

Jason glanced back at the dye and reached for a glittery copper. “This one?” he asked meekly.

A petite blonde popped up behind him. “That’ll look great!” she chirped, then grabbed his hand. “Callouses stay or go?”

Jason stammered for a moment.

“Stay,” Bruce decided for him, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “It hurts like all get out having to grow them back.” He gave Stacy a blinding smile. “Polo, you know.”

“Right,” Stacy said, obviously not fooled but smart enough not to ask questions. She reached for a different bottle of the same color. “How do you feel about shellac? Lasts longer.”

“More expensive, though,” Jason said, glancing at the prices.

Bruce slapped him on the back. “Shellac it is!”

Stacy smiled and herded him into her corner of the shop, already chattering away.

An hour later, she passed him off to Keshawn with a wink and an “All yours, boss.”

Keshawn grinned and led Jason to one of his stations. “Saw you looking at the dye. Is that what we’re doing today?”

Jason nodded.

“Everything, just the white, or everything but the white?”

Jason felt his throat close in horror. “Everything!” he blurted.

Keshawn smiled and nodded, talking soothingly through the process.

“Better?” Bruce asked as they drove away.

Jason stared at his reflection in the sideview mirror. “Yeah,” he said, smoothing purple curls away from his face, watching how the sun caught on his nails. “Yeah, better.”

Much too soon, they pulled into the gym parking lot. Bruce led the way in. “Trust me?” he asked as they headed for the locker rooms to change.

“Always,” Jason said, with no hesitation.

“Keep your shirt off.”

Jason stared, but nodded and complied, flushing with embarrassment and looking down at his stomach in revulsion.

They only worked out for about five minutes, sticking mainly to the rowing machines before Bruce’s trainer made her way over.

“Kari!” Bruce cheered, wrapping her in a sweaty hug. “Kari,” he said, gesturing to Jason, “this is my boy. Wants to look like his old man.”

Kari stared at the think ‘Y’ scar on Jason’s chest for only about two seconds before shrugging it off like a true Gothamite and staring him blankly in the eyes. “Why? I mean, if that’s what you really want, I’ll help, but you could probably throw him across the room how you are now.”

Bruce gasped dramatically, over the top, even for him. “Do it!”

Kari glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

Jason shook his head. “Yeah, no, that’s – that’s what I want.”

Bruce looked devastated.

Kari glanced between them in confusion, then softened. “Let me have you spend some time with my strongest guy, figure out where you’re at, then if you still want to, we’ll make a plan.”

Her ‘strongest guy’ turned out to be named Kristoff – a large man with a larger beard and an even larger personality. He had a thick Norwegian accent, but Jason gathered he was here on a student visa, studying nursing.

He also managed to keep pace with him for almost an hour before needing to stop.

Kristoff laid large hands on his shoulders. “You are a bear,” Jason thought he said. “You are best the way you are.” He clapped him on the back then walked off to finish his workout.

Jason sipped water as he thought before eventually wandering to the front desk to look for Bruce.

“Better?” Bruce asked.

Jason nodded. “Much better,” he said, running a hand through his sweat-slick hair, frowning when his fingers came away purple.

Bruce grabbed him by the elbow as they walked back to the lockers. “Keshawn said it would bleed, remember? It’s not gonna wash out completely for a couple months. Shower and change,” he ordered, waiting to continue until the water was running. “I set up a membership for you. If you want to use it, it’s there, if not, it’s not a problem. I know Kristoff is here pretty much all weekend.”

“Thank you,” Jason said, climbing out of the shower and tugging on clothes.

Bruce swallowed, voice thick with emotion. “You’re better than any of us. I don’t like your methods – I never have – but I don’t think you’re a bad person. Killing aside, you’re the better person between the two of us. And no matter what, I never want to see you hurting. You’re my son just the way you are.”

Jason sat down on a bench and found himself crying again, this time with something akin to relief.

Bruce moved closer and enveloped him in a hug, pressing his lips to his hair. “I love you, Jay.”

Jason wept. "I love you, too, Dad."

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I found some references!
> 
> [Jason's new hair color](https://last-trend.com/uploads/posts/2016-08/1471888846_burgundy-plum-hair-color.jpg)  
> [Curly hair Jason is the only Jason for me](https://haircutinspiration.com/wp-content/uploads/curly-hair-1200x1200.jpg) (2C, not a faceclaim)  
> [Jason's nail color](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ff/22/50/ff2250b9d3e7033f606c59bc94d1f8a7.jpg)
> 
> I don't have faceclaims for my OCs but Keshawn is based on a gay black man I had the privilege of hanging out with for only two or three weeks and he still makes me want to be a better person every time I think of him, and Kari is based on my dad's old Crossfit trainer. 
> 
> Kristoff is based on the owner of Wandering Oaken's Trading Post and Sauna from the movie Frozen and named after the main supporting character from the same movie.
> 
> Stacy's just your average generic white girl.


End file.
